


Life As We Know It

by tamagochie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff to Angst, Slice of Life, Timeskip, domestic life, haikyuu!! - Freeform, hq
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:06:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28238916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamagochie/pseuds/tamagochie
Summary: You come home late from your cousin's funeral, and though Kenma didn't expect much from you but perhaps a few leftovers you’ve managed to steal away from the dinner, he finds you with a surprise: a sleeping child cradled around your neck and a teenage boy hovering behind you.Your poor boyfriend wonders what in the hell is it you're plotting...
Relationships: Kozume Kenma & Reader, Kozume Kenma & fem!reader, Kozume Kenma/Reader
Comments: 19
Kudos: 148





	1. Life As We Know It

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: welcome to the first chapter of this series! i’m very excited to start this, and i hope everyone who reads it enjoys it as well! i got the idea from a manga i was binge reading a while back, so the themes and a few of the plot points are different, but as it progresses, i’ve made it my own.  
> anyway, happy christmas! see you next week! 
> 
> warnings: mentions of death, mentions of depression, cursing, slight homophobic themes  
> word count: 2.5k

You notice the subtle clench of Kenma's jaw beneath the warm glow of the hallway's light. His hooded gaze strained by hours upon hours of gaming meets your wavering grin. The gears in his head are turning _very_ slowly, and since silence has fallen upon the atmosphere of your shared apartment, you can actually hear the little squeaks as your poor boyfriend tries to fathom the sight before him.

You have quite a knack for bringing peculiar things home without permission; the little frog you adopted on the side of the road during your commute home one stormy night, the mud pie your nephew made for you that stunk the entire apartment for weeks because you didn't have the heart to throw it away—at least not immediately; and the dinner you brought home from the self-proclaimed "legitimate" kebab restaurant that resides in the sketchier side of the city.

All quirky things that Kenma had accepted and grown used to.

But this? _This_ was _so_ far from the bar you had set for his expectations, he can't help but wonder if you're pulling a prank, or maybe even actually committing a crime. But the glint of guilt and sorrow painting so deep into your face tells him otherwise.

Oh, how the poor gamer wishes it was a prank.

You swallow your fear, forcing it all the way down to the pit of your stomach. You've practiced all you've needed to say in the ride home, but all you can manage is stuttering, "I-I can..I can explain," in rather hushed tone.

_There goes all my practice_ , you think to yourself.

Kenma raises a brow, still peering at you with the driest expression. The child in your arms begins to weigh heavier than the pressure placed upon your chest.

_Ah, he just might break up with me after this..._

"This is—uh, this one behind me is Eiji—Ejij say hi." The young boy behind you bows shyly, his greeting softer than a whisper it feels like you imagined it. "And this little one—sleeping soundly—this one's Yuki..."

Kenma blinks away at your words, face unamused. You regret not even trying to bring home some cake. Maybe if you did, he wouldn't be so...upset? Is he upset or is it just his face again? You can never really tell.

You huff, quietly jumping to the harsh conclusion this'll be the moment he ends things with you. But you won't go down without at least a little fight.

"Look," You sigh, shifting your hold beneath Yuki's tiny bum so he doesn't slip away, "They needed a place to stay, and no one was willing to take them!" Your lips fall dry and the more you speak, the more your words come out strained. "In a room full of people who—who called themselves your family for so many years fall silent the moment they needed help! No one spoke up to help them! It was _so_ bad, Kenma! I-If you were there you—"

You bite your tongue, catching yourself before you're swept away by the current of your rage.

A deep, shaky sigh escapes him. His eyes finally tearing away from you as he cranes his head back, seemingly accepting his temporary defeat. "Let them sleep in the spare room and we'll talk after," is the only thing Kenma says to you before turning around walking away.

The constricting feeling in your chest eases and you sigh in relief. You mentally high five yourself for your momentary win before twisting your gaze over your shoulder to look at the young boy towering over you, motioning him to follow you.

You never noticed how wide the apartment actually is. Maybe its because of the emptying feeling you were left with back in the hallway, but it all seems so eerily wide. Like, what are two people doing with such a big space?

_He'll definitely break up with me after this._

There's still a lingering prickly feeling in your heart; a mixed emotion of a win and a loss. You try your best to prepare yourself for whatever the outcome may be, but deep inside you're already prepared for a break up.

The young boy trails behind you all the way into the bedroom, leaving a considerable amount of space between the two of you.

You switch the lights on, revealing a room big enough for more than just two kids. A desk on the side, a king size bed at the center, and a window with a good view of the city. It was usually the room Hinata crashed whenever he came back from traveling with his team, but he hadn't been here in months. Traces of him were left in the form of dust.

"Will this be good enough for now?" You ask Eiji as you shrug Yuki's backpack to the floor before making your way over to the bed.

His head is lowered, eyes still failing to meet yours. He's been like this since you pulled them from under the gossiping gaze of your family.

_Family_ , you think. The word seems so meaningless now.

"When someone speaks to you, you ought to look at them," You say it with a genuine smile, hoping that the little warmth you have left in your heart radiates off you and onto him.

_God knows he needs it more than you._

"Y-yes, you're right. Thank you." He stammers, "I'm-I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude—"

"Hey," You say, gently cutting him off as you hold your smile. He's still as soft and shy as the day you first met him. You can't help but smile at the thought that he never changed. "I'm not mad or anything...Its just a teaching moment. Remember it."

You watch as Eiji slowly shifts his gaze away from the floor, slowly raising his head to meet your eyes."There you go. You've got pretty eyes, you shouldn't hide them."

He hums a quiet thank you before turning around and shifting his attention to his backpack. You take care of the little one still hanging onto you, pressing a kiss onto his little forehead and rubbing his back before settling him down onto the bed.

You're careful not to stir him as you slip his shoes off. You tuck him in, brushing his hair away from his face to reveal his long lashes and puffy eyes.

Ah, there goes the heaviness in your chest again; a recurring feeling for the day. You wonder when it'll end and your heart sinks even deeper when you remember Kenma waiting for you.

Hesitantly, you excuse yourself and make your way to the door. You let Eiji know where the bathroom is and tell him not to be scared to ask you for anything, "Please don't scared," is the last thing you mutter before leaving the boys to rest.

You tiptoe across the living room, down the hall and towards your shared bedroom. The wooden floorboards creak beneath your feet whispering, " _You've done it now_ ", " _You've crossed the line_ ", and " _He's definitely going to yell at you_ ".

You clench the knob of your bedroom door. The thumping of your heart deafens your ears and your throat grows too dry for you to swallow your fear.

You shut your eyes and pray to the deities, hoping for a good outcome—hoping for any outcome than the one you're expecting.

It takes a moment—five minutes to be exact—but you muster a sliver of courage to push the door open. For some odd reason, you imagined Kenma would be sitting at the edge of the bed, silently brewing in his anger. But instead, he's on the floor, knees up to his chest as he fiddles with his Switch.

And you can't tell if you're annoyed or relieved.

You shut the door behind you before joining him on the floor. You keep your head down, picking off your nail polish while you wait.

Kenma pauses his game, setting it down to the side before completely leaning against the bed, lulling his head back to take a breath. You shut your eyes and you take a deep breath when you feel him shifting in his place to face you.

_Here it is. He's going to yell at me_ , you think.

"What are you plotting?" He asks, not a single trace of irritation found in his voice but rather sheer curiosity dripping from his words. You keep your head down and eyes shut. "You ought to look at someone when they're speaking to you," Your name rolls off his tongue playfully, covered in nothing more than love and sincerity.

You peak an eye at him, lifting your head. "You're not gonna to yell at me?"

"When have I _ever_ yelled at you?" His face contorts in judgement and a little concern, wondering if his girlfriend's broken or just completely stupid. "Why would I yell at you now?"

"I brought home two stray kids..."

"Yes, you did," He says matter-of-factly, "and we need to talk about that. So, can we _please_ talk about that?"

You nod slowly, bringing your knees up to your chest before turning your whole body to face him.

Kenma sinks his elbow onto the end of the bed, cupping his chin for support before he speaks, “Who are those kids and why did you bring them home?"

Kenma looks at you directly, his face emotionless, but a bit softer compared to when you were first standing in the hallway. He blinks at you, waiting patiently till you're ready to speak.

"They were my cousin's kids," You say in a strained whisper. "The—The one that died in the accident." Kenma hums in response, signaling you to keep going. "We weren't close—as you know or else you would've heard a lot more about him—but we felt close enough...given what our family's like..."

Growing up with the kind of family you had and having met everyone from your extended family was kind of like living in a block of ice that never melted; solid in their beliefs, slippery with their anger, and had no room for any other emotion.

You made this very clear to Kenma when you first started dating, especially when he had asked to meet your family. He wasn't one to socialize or even initiate it, but he would do it if it meant doing it for you. But you turned the idea down fast, warned him that there'd be no reason to have to go through all that stress just for you; and though he was just as stubborn as you, Kenma gave in and never brought it up again when he saw how upset you had gotten.

But in chest full of ice cubes, there was your cousin, Akihiro-san. Like you, he was different. He wasn't cold, but he was so genuine and real, you couldn't help but doubt his kindness.

A kindness you failed return when he needed it most. So, when you saw your moment of opportunity, you snatched it, regrettably leaving your boyfriend as an afterthought to your decision.

"I owe it to him, Kenma..." You plead in whisper. "I owe to him because he was the only one who was ever nice to me..."

"These are kids," He counters, dipping his head to meet your glossy eyes. He takes your cheek into the palm of his hand, his thumb tracing circles over your skin. "This would be different if it were a puppy or a plant—but these are living and breathing _kids_ and we know _nothing_ about raising kids. My love, we're only in our twenties..."

"But—"

"You should've called first." He cuts you off, his tone still soft , but firm. You’re at least grateful he’s called you your pet name. "You should've called me and asked."

"You would've said no..."

"How do you know? You never called me." There isn't resentment in Kenma's words. Its still playful and light, but you can feel his hurt and you feel dumb because you know exactly why. "I would've liked to have been included in this decision... _especially_ since this is my home and you are my girlfriend, and you promised that we would make decisions _together_."

You frown, tears brimming to the surface as you realized what you've done and how you've probably made him feel.You denied him of his choice, and you were silly to believe that it was okay to go over his head and behind his back.

As you whisper a string of apologies, Kenma presses his forehead onto yours, smiling at you. He was angry at first, but not so much anymore.

"Are you going to break up with me?" You sniffle, voice breaking at the thought. "I'd understand if you wanted to break up with me...But I just—I really wanted to help them. I'm so sorry I didn't ask you first, I couldn't just leave them—"

"Shhh," His breath fans against your skin, "I'm not breaking up with you, stupid. Given, this is probably the biggest wild card you've thrown at me by far, but its not enough for me to break up with you."

You hide your face into dip of his neck, sobbing into the material of his sweater, letting go of the strength you had from holding back and stain it with your tears. You had always been reckless, but it never turned him off. He never raised his voice, he always heard you out, and even when you slipped up, he always forgave you in a heartbeat.

It makes you question if you’re deserving of such a love as this. 

“I was very angry and very offended,” Kenma begins, “I didn’t like what you did. It made me feel like you couldn’t trust me, and it made me feel like you saw me as some kind of terrible person what would turn away kids that need a home...”

You shake your heard, muttering a “no” to his assumption. 

Kenma runs his fingers through your hair and down to your back, soothing you until you've caught your breaths. He'll soft press his lips against the crown of your head, discreetly swiping the little sweat off his lips to keep you from being offended.

"S-So, what do we do about the kids?" Your question muffled but Kenma can hear you just fine.

He sighs, and as he's about to pull you away from his chest, you tighten your hold around his waist. "Please look at me,"Your shoulders fall and you pout when you come face to face with him. He chuckles at how ridiculously childish you look, "Do you really want to do this?"

Your eyes widen, "Y-yes. I want to do this, but if you don't want—"

"Better us than anyone else, right?" You blink at him, processing. "I don't know shit about kids, but if you really want to do this, I'll support you. But you can't expect me to be good at this."

Kenma falls onto your shoulder and rests all his weight onto you, letting out a sigh. Panic envelopes his heart, his stomach flipping and churning as he stresses over all the things that's yet to come.

“We’ve been dating for four years, and I’ve just only gotten the hang of you now...” He admits in a heavy sigh.

_I'm still a kid_ , he thinks, groaning. He's plays games all day, forgets to shower, and doesn't know how to cook either. He works from home, rarely goes out unless he needs to or if you want to. Out of the both of you, you're more put together than he is.

Can he really do this?

"Please don't expect much from me," He begs, "I don't do well with kids, and you even took in a grown one. What if it doesn't like me or if it forget to feed it?"

You chew on your lip, holding back a laugh and quietly smile to yourself. Vulnerability paints well on your boyfriend, and you wish for even more moments like this.

“I promise it’ll only be until we kind find some other arrangement for them...” You’re not entirely confident in your words, but you understand the idea of having them stay with you isn’t the most sound solution. 

"I suppose if we mess up, we'll mess it up together." He says in defeat, sprawling his legs open before wrapping it around you, pulling you as close to him as possible. He cradles your body tightly just as Yuki had done. "You don't understand how unbelievably lucky you are that I love you."


	2. Life As She's Known It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: hello! welcome to the second chapter of the series! i’m posting this a little later than expected because wifi is really trying to cock block me from posting :’) 
> 
> anyway, I hope you enjoy!  
> happy almost new year! see you all next week!

You wonder what the younger version of you would think if you went back in time and told her she'd be eating at a dining table filled with food that wasn't microwavable, and the air wouldn't be filled by the sound of metal clanging and scraping against each other, but instead be filled by the lilting giggles of a little boy; his older brother pressing him to keep it down; and Kenma's casual yet awkward attempt to relate to the two.

She would probably cry.

Your parents' work piled up to the late hours of the evening and spilled into the morning, leaving you in a constant state of dejection. The house would be barren, nothing but the faint ticking of the old grandfather clock to keep you company. But even if your parents were home, it would still be the same; the air cold and unmoving.

Your parents were not warm nor were they emotional, and maybe that's what drew you to Kenma; he was quiet, rarely affectionate, and gave you more than enough room to breathe. Sure, there were the occasional forehead kisses, the head pats, the 'how are you doing' texts, and sometimes if he was brave enough, he’d interlock pinkies with you in public.

But you grew selfish, finding yourself wanting a little more each time you saw him, and you weren't sure if it was okay.

Was it okay to yearn for things? 

Was it okay to ask for more?

But Kenma saw through your facade of accepting things as they are and right into your neediness. He was willing to give as long as you asked or even when you were too shy to do so. He even gave you his whole life without sparing a second thought even if the realization that he had done so came much later.

"Here, let me." Kenma slips his hands over yours, taking the plate from within your grasp to wash it in your place. He bumps his hips against yours, causing you to stumble away from the sink.

You mumble a thank you before resorting to wiping down the dishes and setting them on the rack.

You delight in his banter. He asks you about your day, stealing glances between you and the stack of dishes before him while you give him the run down. He listens to you intently, gaze wandering a little longer when he hears an exasperated sigh escape your lips, but you let him know you're just fine.

"What about you?" You ask, tilting your head and playfully moving it in front of Kenma's face, blocking him from the plate he needs to scrub. "How was your day?"

He hums, tiptoeing over you to finish the chore like the diligent little worker he is. "It was another day," You frown at him and his lack of effort to push further. He rolls his eyes, chuckling at your pouty face. "I played another trial game with Eiji—"

"And how'd that go?"

"Oh, he's absolute shit— _ow_!" Your slap against his arm resounds throughout the apartment, causing Yuki and Eiji's to jerk their attention towards you both. You mold your face into a look of ease, sparing them a warm smile, telling them you saw a fly.

"The hell?! I wasn't finished!" The pudding head seethes. "Sure he was shit, but he was still better than you."

The cocky grin slipping across his lips matching with his lidded eyes has you throwing your hands, erupting a series of ow's. "You're such an ass, you know that?"

"Yeah, the ass _you_ chose." He sneers, handing you the last plate to dry.

He rubs his arm in an attempt to soothe the stinging, glaring at you begrudgingly. It takes you a while to ease back into his trust, but you do, and he picks up where he leaves off as if he wasn't in any pain to begin with.

He tells you about his little trip to the convenience store with Yuki for his strawberry milk, and the foreign, constricting feeling that wouldn't leave his chest until they came back home. How he couldn't let go of Yuki's hand when they were in the store, and if he did, it would send him in a state of sheer panic.

"Must be your mommy instincts kicking in," You joke, and he only rolls his eyes.

He also admits inadvertently turning all your favorite whites into various shades of pinks and blues. As someone as analytical as Kenma, he was challenged by the task of separating the lights from the darks. 

You snort, earning a scowl from your boyfriend and a string of explanations to defend his case. But it isn't the mistake that makes you laugh, but rather how far you've come after a month of adjustments and an unfortunate series of events.

The first two weeks were _exceptionally_ _trying_. No one spoke a word and everyone walked on eggshells. Eiji was still too shy to look at you, his responses down to a bare minimum and quieter than a whisper; Yuki cried almost all the time over every little thing, and the vein in Kenma's neck was threatening to pop every time he did.

It didn't help when you and Kenma would end your nights at each other's throats, bickering till you fell asleep. And when morning came, you'd be greeted by the emptiness from his side of the bed.

And it helped no one when the two of you would avoid each other, never crossing paths or breathing a word the moment you came home until it was too painfully awkward to continue.

Two and half hours charged with petty arguments, things of the past, and all the little things that came in between only to have finally arrived at one conclusion: You weren't parents and you weren't Akihiro-san. You were your own people and it was okay to do things differently.

Even if different meant that Kenma might call the kids by the wrong name or forget the fact he's living with someone else other than you. Even if different meant that you'll be absent-mindedly teaching Yuki a few curses to add to his vocabulary or forgetting to enroll them in school.

The truth is no one from the family was going to return your calls, and you were probably going to spend the rest of your twenties making up bedtime stories and giving pretty bad advice to someone just a few years younger than you.

Which brings you here, wearing your bathing suit as you share your bubble bath with Yuki because he wanted to play with the rubber duckies he whined and moaned at Kenma to buy for him at the store.

Lathering his hair with shampoo, Yuki's head leans against your chest, eyes gleaming beneath the bathroom lights. He beams at you, giggling at the ticklish feeling as you massage his head. He brings attention back to his ducks, making crashing sounds as he splashes them into the water.

"Is that how ducks swim?" You ask, washing away the soap from his hair. "Don't they just kinda...float around?"

He shakes his head before twisting his body to face you. He's got a tough expression plastered on; brows furrowed, his jaw clenched, eyes unwavering.

A very serious boy.

"These are special ducks," He explains, raising one to your face."These are battleship ducks."

Your lips fall to an 'o', still not picking up what he's putting down but you pretend you do.

_Is this what kids are into these days?_

Yuki goes on to tell you about his special ducks; something about lasers in their eyes, super special flying skills, and... _echo location_? You ask him if he's sure—if you heard him right, but he's as firm with his stance as he is with the death grip he has on his rubber duckies.

You drain the tub before rinsing yourselves beneath the warm water of the shower. Yuki flips his hair around, air drying himself as he steps out of the tub. You tell him to brush his teeth while he waits for you to finish rinsing.

"Hey, Oba-san," Yuki's call is muffled by the foam of the toothpaste still in his mouth. "Are you and Kenma-san married?"

You nearly fall when you slip off of your bathing suit and into your pajamas. "Ah, no, Yuki. We're not."

"But aren't you in love?" He asks, oblivious to the sudden shift in the atmosphere, spitting into the sink and washing his mouth.

Your eye twitches and you swallow the lump in your throat before it goes big enough for you to choke and die. "Uhh, people don't always have to marry right away just because they're in love..."

"But Kenma-san said he's been in love with you for _four_ years."

"I—Yeah, well—"

"That's sounds like a _really_ long time, Oba-san." You can't tell if he means to sound condescending. You can't tell if your mom has awakened from the grave and possessed the young boy because she woke up thinking she had a few more things she'd like to pester you with.

"Well, Yuki," You gather the little patience you have left, taking a deep breath as you step out of the tub. The bathroom tile is cold against the soles of your feet, sending a shiver down your spine. Enough to keep you sober for trivial conversation with a six year old boy. "Love—Love kinda looks different for everyone, Yuki."

You choose your words carefully, not wanting to say anything that might confuse him.

You help him into his clothes, his hair leaving wet patches onto his his dinosaur pajamas. He listens to you intently, looking right into your eyes. "There are people marry the moment they meet—or at least after a short while—because they can't help but feel sure?” 

And you can’t help but feel flustered at your own explanation, not too sure with your words, “...and other people _don't_ do that. Some relationships move at a faster pace and other's move a bit slower; and Kenma-san and I...we're happy with how things are right now."

He hums, nodding his head as if he understands. "Even though Eiji-san and I are here?"

"Yes, little love." You assure him with the new nickname, booping his nose. "Even though you're both here."

You grab his towel and dry his hair. You pat down the tiny puddles of water on his face and neck, noting to wipe behind his ears.

"But," Yuki mumbles through the material of the towel, swatting your hand away to to catch his breath, "sometimes people don't like different..." Yuki pushes the towel to this side, his glossy eyes meeting yours and your heart cracks. "They didn't like my dad 'cause he was different."

"H-He didn't love someone th-that looked like y-you..." Yuki bites down on his bottom lip, keeping it from quivering and fixating his eyes onto the tiles of the floor to prevent himself from choking on his words. "H-He...He loved someone that look like Kenma-san."

You understand what he means. You know full well. Their father was gay and because of that, your family ostracized him without wasting another breath. As if it was easy as blinking.

You knew what their father had been going through, you had enough time to help, yet you stood idle, doing nothing but add to his loneliness.

You kept all the sunshine Akihiro-san shared with you during your bluest days, even when it had been so obvious he needed it more than you.

But not once did you ever think about returning a sliver of it. And you wonder maybe if you hadn't been so selfish and naive, a silver lining would've been enough to avoid something as painful as this.

Instinctively, you pull him close to you, threading your fingers through his still damp hair. You shush him and press kiss on the crown of his head as his petite figure trembles in your arms. You let him sob into your shirt, his fingers twisting the material in anguish.

And it breaks your heart that a little human like him would not only know the meaning of anguish, but how it feels to have it tear through his heart.

It takes a few moments for Yuki to catch his breath and for you to ease him. He slumps onto you as he regains his strength. You tell him you're sorry because you are and because you don't know what else to say.

You try to use his strawberry milk and his brother as an incentive to keep him from crying again. And after a few minutes it works.

You trail closely behind him when he walks out of the bathroom. He begins to run when he gets closer to Eiji, the pitter patter of his wee little feet carrying in the apartment.

You watch as Yuki thrusts himself forward into the arms of his brother, and Eiji doesn't fail to catch him. The sight before you leaves you gawking in silence, watching Eiji unravel into his big brother form as he lifts Yuki to the ceiling, playfully sniffing his under arms, the crook of his neck, and even his little bum before complimenting him, "Good job, you smell just like flowers."

His giggles float in the air, swarming around the apartment as if he hadn't been crying just a few minutes ago.

And as you watch the scene unfold do you decide to step out of the sidelines, using this warm moment shared between the boys as your driving force to keep the last of your cousin's light safe. 


	3. Life As He's Known It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> w/c: 3.6K 
> 
> a/n: welcome to the third installment of the fic! we're almost drawing near the end, and i'm not entirely sure how i feel about it, but i hope that whoever is reading, you enjoyed it as much as i did!   
> i'm sorry for the delay, i didn't think i would be posting this so late. so with that said, please ignore any grammar errors you see...i proof read this to the best of my abilities and it's currently 5am :') 
> 
> see you next week!

Kenma had always been aware of the common misconception people had of him, and the lack of interest they had to confirm it: that he had the inability to express his thoughts and feelings let alone identify it. 

In a way, he did find it rather difficult to open up. Being bullied as a child silenced him into the dreading assumption that anyone who was kind to him or showed any interest in him were only doing so just to mess with him. 

It took Kuroo quite a lot when he first met Kenma. He bent his little body over and under, jumping through hoops like a show pony just to get Kenma to even blink his way. And though all that effort strained him, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you he’d do it all again if he could. 

But it wasn’t a question of whether or not Kenma could identify what he was feeling and thoroughly express it. He had the right words, all of which were hanging off the tip of his tongue. He just didn’t know how to say it without sounding insensitive or heartless. 

So as he stares at Yuki twirling in a dress you found digging through one of your old childhood clothes, his lips run dry. His words tuck behind the swell of his heart because though Yuki does indeed look like the cutest child he’s ever seen, his thoughts are full of concern, worried about what people say to a little boy showing up in a jean overall dress with purple and yellow flowers embroidered at the hem. 

His eyes gape onto the sight before him, flickering over to Eiji when he hears him clear his throat. He seems just as troubled, quieter than usual while he watches over his brother. Not a single trace of amusement is seen in Eiji’s face. He doesn’t seem happy at all, and it phases Kenma; he’s usually stoic if not smiling in the presence of Yuki. 

Yuki continues to giggle himself, gripping onto the material of his dress to have it flow in the air. He looks up to meet your eyes, oblivious to the two boys muddled in their own distress. 

“I’m sorry, Yuki-chan,” You huff, smiling down to the little boy running circles in the middle of the living room. “If I had known the preschool was gonna accept you so soon, I would’ve brought you to the mall...But this should be fine for now, right? Is this okay with you, Yuki-chan?” 

Yuki disregards your apology, holding up your old frog raincoat as he beams at his “new” found clothes. 

“Plus, these don’t look so old, and it doesn’t look too girly, don’t you think?” You turn to Kenma who spares you nothing more than a nod. You follow his gaze and find it etched into the embroidered hem. 

_ It doesn’t pass off as boy clothes _ , he thinks, letting your words breeze past him. 

Kenma isn’t shy with breaking gender norms; he’s worn a few skirts and dresses himself, all that are still sitting in his closet to be worn again. His qualms aren’t with Yuki wearing a dress, but the treatment he’s expected to get when he shows up to his first day of school. He’ll be bullied into the same silence Kenma faced, and he’ll amount to nothing more than rubble beneath their judgement. 

They say times are changing, so the people must be too, right? But there’s a persistent constricting feeling building up in his chest as if it comes as a warning sign. And the fact that Eiji looks just as uneasy as himself hints that maybe Yuki should change out of something less.. _.worrisome _ . 

“Mmm, Yuki,” Kenma clears his throat, trying to subside the build up of his uneasiness, “maybe you should wear something else…?” Yuki’s smile falters at his words as confusion colors away his joy. “I think you should wear the pants with the little frog shirt you picked out instead.” 

He doesn’t mean for his words to come out bitter and cold, and the momentum of his panic leaves a lump in his throat he isn’t too sure he’ll be able to swallow if he keeps his silence. 

Yuki looks up to him, blinking away at his words with glistening eyes. “I don’t look pretty?” Yuki’s voice comes out small--smaller than his fingers and toes. Smaller than his ability to comprehend where Kenma’s truly coming from. “You don’t like it, Kenma-san..?”

_ Oh no _ , he thinks to himself. Panic rises from his stomach and climbs up to his chest; a tightness in his throat soon follows when Yuki begins to blubber, telling him how mean he’s being.  _ I didn’t mean to make him-- _

“ _ Kozume _ .” You chide, looking at him quizzically. He meets your eyes and he instantly freezes up, thinking you, too, have come to misunderstand him. “What are you doing? Do something.” 

But he can’t. If he opens his mouth, he’ll only sound meaner than before, and he’d rather not add any more confusion or any more pain to the little boy. 

“Say something,” You push, glaring at him. “ _ Kozume _ .” 

His throat goes dry as well as his lips, and when he finally does gain enough courage, Eiji takes a step forward beating him to the punch. “Yuki, I think it’s better you just wear pants. Dresses are for girls, and you shouldn’t be wearing this kind of stuff.” 

Your eyes widen and so does Kenma’s. Eiji’s is stern and clear in contrast to all the other times he’s spoken since he’s arrived. You watch as he kneels to meet Yuki’s eyes, placing a hand on his shoulder before running it up to his cheek to wipe away his tears. 

“There might be some problems if you wear a dress to school, Yuki-chan. And didn’t we promise each other we wouldn’t cause them any trouble for Oba-san and Kenma-san while we’re here?” Eiji’s voice is a lot soft, yet his words are still firm. Yuki quietly submits to his brother, hanging his head low as he continues to cry. 

You stand there both stunned. 

You want to speak up, but you’re still unsure of your place; who you are and what you can say. So you stand there with Kenma tightlipped at your side with tension hanging above your heads, watching as Yuki quietly sniffles to himself as he hugs the pile of clothes he’s picked and carries it into their shared bedroom. 

Needless to say, everyone goes to bed tucked beneath the covers of their guilt. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Quiet mornings with a steaming cup at hand while treading lightly through the endless sea of emails in his iPad brought Kenma an odd sense of peace, and he looked forward to it every morning. But much to Kenma’s dismay, the apartment is too quiet and the coffee bitter; the chill in the atmosphere is unsettling as he falls into deep thought. 

He thinks back to the events of last night; Yuki’s crying face, your contorted look of confusion, and Eiji’s words. It all comes pouring down on him like a bucket of cold water. 

Not even his coffee can spare him from the chill down his spine. 

He mentally kicks himself, thinking of all the other ways he could’ve said it better. How he could’ve prevented him from breaking Yuki’s little heart and avoided your cold shoulder as you left in a hurry to take the kids to their schools. 

Kenma sucks in a breath as the stinging spreads across his chest. The weight of his cup grows heavy and he shifts his grip to a more comfortable hold. Nothing about the morning is comforting, and it leaves Kenma in distress, the feeling spilling into his work as he continues about his day. 

He can barely read a single line of an email let alone write one; his senses aren’t as sharp as he struggles to smoothen his hand-eye coordination during gaming; and he catches himself zoning out in the middle of his online meetings, barely humming responses to questions he pretends to hear. 

Kenma wonders how Yuki’s doing, and what he could do to apologize and gain his trust back. Maybe he’ll get some strawberry milk on the way to fetch him, or buy the little duck umbrella he caught him eyeing at the convenience store. 

Kenma isn’t good with words if one were to ask him to be gentle and kind. He’s blunt and straight to the point, and it took him more than just a while to get used to softening the blow of his words and how he delivers them. 

And now, as he muddles in his misery does he ingrain those habits deeper into thought until it becomes muscle memory to his lips. 

He’s only then pulled from his squabbles when the doorbells rings throughout the apartment. His feet drag him to the door as his mutters in his resentment.  _ What in the hell could be here _ \--

“You’re shitting me.” Kenma grimaces at the sight of the cheeky grin plastered across his best friend’s face as he opens the door; his hair tousled to the side and his usual business attire unkempt. “What the hell do you want?” 

Kuroo pouts, pretending to be wounded by the bitter greeting as he holds a hand to his heart. “Is that how you greet an old friend?” 

“Not now, Kuroo-san.” Despite the bite in his words and his half-hearted attempt to shut the door, Kuroo welcomes himself in, kicking his shoes to the side before trailing behind him. 

“I miss your calls,” Kuroo teases, eyes wandering about the apartment, “you don’t even text me back anymore.” 

“I don’t have the time.” Kenma grits as he pinches the bridge of his nose. A drunken, dizzying feeling whirling in his head; probably because of all the coffee he’s downed and the little water he’s consumed. “Whatever it is you’re here to pester me with, please save it for another time and _ leave _ .” 

“Why? Stay at home daddy roles keeping you occupied?” The cushion of the couch bends beneath Kuroo’s weight as he leisurely raises his feet to the coffee table, arms relaxing over to the arm rest. “I wasn’t so surprised when you became a CEO, but  _ this _ \--fatherhood was something I’d imagined you’d do  _ much  _ later...” 

Irritation seeps through Kenma’s skin in the form of tense muscles and a clenched jaw as Kuroo continues on to pass cheap jokes and badgers him. He swipes a bottle warm from the fridge before joining Kuroo on the other side of the couch, kicking his foot off the table on the way. 

“You’re so cold to me.” Kuroo whines, ruffling Kenma’s pudding head hair, earning a disapproving  _ tsk _ . “Seriously, how’s it someone like you skips the step to marriage and dives straight to having kids? I’m a bit hurt. I had to hear it from Shoyo. Like,  _ seriously _ ?  _ Shoyo _ ? I thought  _ I _ was your best friend?” 

“Self-proclaimed.” He corrects, unbothered by Kuroo’s sore expression as he untwists the cap from the bottle before chugging the water down in one breath. “Will you leave now?” 

“Why are you so keen to push me out?” Kuroo lifts himself off the warmth of the cushions, moving closer to his evidently troubled friend as he picks off the seal from the plastic bottle. “Kenma, are you okay?  _ Kyanma _ ?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose once again, Kenma shakes his head as he leans his head back. Kuroo tilts his head, watching as his friend unravels in his pain; manifesting both metaphorically and physically. 

“I’ve said something mean to a little boy and he didn’t even deserve it.” Kenma fiddles the empty bottle, tossing it to the side before anxiously fiddling with his fingers. 

“What happened?” 

A deep and heavy sigh escapes him, “He was wearing a dress and I told him he shouldn’t. A-And, And it’s not like I didn’t want him to. I don’t mind it all, but people are mean and the thought that he might face the same kind of treatment I did--Kuroo-san, I don’t want that.”

“You only meant well,” Kuroo places his hand on Kenma’s shoulder, rubbing circles against the material of his old Nekoma sweater. “Though, you could’ve said it better--” 

“You know damn well I’m not good at that!” Kenma spits, cutting him off. 

“But the point is, you meant well!” He reiterates. “Might’ve come across as a lil douche-y, but the intentions were there. But I think you of all people know that no matter what, there’ll always be someone mean. And I don’t think you can shield him from that. Maybe temporarily, but not forever.” 

“I don’t want that kind of pain for him!” Kenma abruptly stands from his place, frustration tingling at his fingertips as it spreads throughout the rest of his body. “He’s so small, Kuroo-san. You should’ve seen him. I said one thing and it already looked like he was gonna break. What happens when he hears words worse than mine? What’ll I do then? What can I do for him?” 

Sniffling. It is the sound that follows after Kenma’s voice breaks and causes Kuroo to raise his brows. At first he thinks his ears have tricked him, but when he finds tears pooling down to his chin as he collapses back onto his seat. 

And it is at this moment, after all the time that has passed, has he seen him break. 

“I-I don’t know how to do any of this. I’m _ so  _ confused.” Kenma babbles on, stumbling on his own words and choking in between his sobs. And all Kuroo can offer is a soft, rhythmic pat on his back to try and calm him down.

“I’ve been doing some reading about how to understand children or how to raise one, but it's so different. There’s all these theories and guidelines, but no one tells you that you forget everything you read the second they appear in front of you…” 

Kenma holds his head in his trembling hands, crying even harder. All the while he wonders what the child version of him would think if saw him as fragile as the fallen leaves that’d crunch beneath his feet. He’d wonder if he had known the stress he’d fall prey to, would he have continued? 

But as the image of you bleed through his worries, he’s more than sure of his answer. 

_ Yes.  _

_ Yes, I would.  _

_ Over and over again in one breath.  _

“You will be to that child what you needed when you were bullied.” Kuroo’s words are steady, matched with an endearing smile to comfort Kenma’s crying as he meets his glistening gaze. “You needed someone to reassure you that all you heard were nothing but lies, so you do that for him.” 

“Ah, my dear friend, have you not heard of the phrase ‘It takes a village to raise a child’?” Kenma merely blinks at him quizzically as Kuroo snakes an arm around him to bring him close. “What I’m tryna say is: stop acting like you don’t have me, and Shoyo, and the rest of your friends who’re just within your reach. No one ever said it was only just going to be the two of you.” 

Kenma swallows thickly, nodding in agreement as he wipes away the snot dripping from the tip of his nose. He says his thanks that’s quieter than a whisper, it comes airy and a bit croaky from crying. 

The words of his best friend doesn’t immediately fill his heart with peace, but it does lift a little weight from his shoulders. It does give him the sense of security he’s been searching for. And all Kenma wants to do now is apologize to Yuki-- 

“Speaking of,” Kuroo clears his throat, wandering his eyes around the expanse of the apartment. “Where are the kids…?” 

“Oh, shit.” 

❁ ❁ ❁

Kuroo and Kenma’s feet click clack against the pavement as they run down to Yuki’s preschool. The cool afternoon air winds past the pair; Kenma’s chest is heaving in pain while Kuroo barely breaks a sweat. 

“I can’t believe you forgot the child!” Kuroo shouts behind him, laughing at Kenma struggling to catch up. “How could you forget a child?” 

“I was pretty preoccupied today!” Kenma countered between ragged breaths. “If your ass didn’t show up I would’ve remembered!” 

“Not with all that crying!”

“Don’t you  _ dare _ bring that up  _ ever _ !” 

Kuroo’s hyena laugh carries two blocks over. Head turn as the two continue to bicker all the way down until they arrive at the preschool. Children clamoring before the gate, mingling with their parents and Kenma’s hooded gaze sweeps through the crowd to find a familiar tousled head of hair. 

“What’s he look like?” Kuroo towers over Kenma and the children, squinting his eyes and looking around as if he’s got any clue. 

“He, uh, he should be wearing jeans and a frog shir--” Kenma’s attention is pulled from a string of voices singing praises to find Yuki proudly twirling in his embroidered dress, basking in their compliment. 

It becomes clear to Kenma you dire need to leave the house immediately was because of  _ this _ . Because you were being coy.

But Yuki’s joy is short-lived, locking eyes with Kenma huffing for air after all the running. But to the young boy gaping up at him, it looks as if he’s ready to yell. So he stops his twirling, his smile slipping away as the rest of the kids’ turn to face him. 

Yuki straightens himself, adjusting the straps of his backpack as he carefully walks towards Kenma with his head hung low. Kuroo elbows his side and nearly knocks out the little air he has left. 

He swipes his tongue across his lips before he speaks, But before he can even utter a sound, his train of thought is pulled from him once again. 

“Disgusting.” An abrasive, disembodied voice grimaces. Not a single care if they’re heard. 

“Why the hell is he wearing a dress?” Says another. 

“Honestly, this generation…” 

“Boy’s aren’t supposed to be wearing dresses.” 

The chattering picks up and soon all the parents are ogling at Yuki who can hear them all so clearly, and Kenma notices him shrinking into his froggy raincoat, trying to hide from their judgemental stares. 

_ This _ , Kenma thinks.  _ This is exactly what I mean _ . 

Kenma is not an emotional person, and not once did he ever raise his voice or act on what he was feeling without thinking it over. And as much as he’d like to throw his hands and cause a scene, he remembers Kuroo’s advice. 

“Who’s child is this?” One of the mothers questions. “Who does this child belong to?” 

“He belongs to me, Miss.” Kenma rasps, taking Yuki’s hand in his before turning to the woman. “I am the guardian and this is my child.” 

“And you allow your child to wear a dress?” 

“Yes.” He answers, finding the footing in his confidence to talk back to a woman who can easily tower over him if she steps closer. “Yes, and what does that have to do with you?” 

“Have you no shame?” She glares at him in disgust, sighing. “He’s a boy! Boy’s shouldn’t be wearing dresses! It’s for girls! What kind of message are you trying to teach him?”

“And what about you, Miss? Are you proud to show your kid and all these other young minds that its okay to be a bigot? That it’s okay to be uneducated?” 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“Then  _ beg _ .” Kenma spits, his cat eyes burning holes into the mother’s skin. He’s completely unphased by the growing whispers exchanged between the parents. Kuroo watches proudly in the background, quietly cheering him on. “Skirts were worn by both men and women during the prehistoric times, and biologically speaking, it makes more sense if men were to wear skirts. They only stopped because people as close minded and uneducated as you feared femininity.” 

“So I should ask you the same question, Miss: have you no shame? Telling a small child he’s disgusting because we wanted to wear something that made him happy and comfortable. Is he hurting you?” 

The woman’s lips fall to an ‘o’ as she’s at a loss for words, and Kenma relishes in his growing confidence, bending down to Yuki to pick him up and rest him onto his hip. 

“You have no right to talk to my child that way.” Kenma clears his throat, taking a step back as he maintains eye contact with all the parents at sight. “Let me make this very clear: should you feel the need to take my place as his guardian and try to speak for me, I suggest you don’t.” 

Kenma let’s his words linger in the air and begins to walk away, Kuroo slipping through the sea of parents to walk alongside him. 

A smirk slips across his lips, looking down to Yuki clinging his around Kenma’s neck. 

“Wow,” Kuroo breathes, amusement lacing in his tone. “I didn’t think you had it in ya.” 

“Oh my god, I never wanna do that again.” Kenma twitches the cringe out from his body before pressing Yuki closer to him. “I hate talking to people.” 

“But you did a very good job, I’m actually super proud.” 

“Shut up,” Kenma mutters, locking his eyes onto the pavement ahead of him. 

He’s still shocked, unable to believe what had just transpired. He hated the feeling of everyone’s eyes fixed on him, and how quiet it was when he spoke. He hated having to speak up. 

But if had to do it again, he would. 

He’d do it again and again in one breath. 


	4. Life As They'll Know It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the FOURTH and FINAL installment! WOW, i really didn’t think i’d actually finish this, and i didn’t think people would actually follow this?! nevertheless, i’m truly thankful and honored for hyping me and hyping this story! thank you so much :’(( 
> 
> thank you for journeying with me! i’m really sad that this is end…but i hope you enjoy ;)

Deaths usually rekindle an interest to change ourselves; what we do, how we speak, the life we lead. If we look at things in the right light, we’ll realize our days are short. That life is composed of moments, memories, and little things in between; all of which we get to dictate whether or not are meaningful in the end. 

But for Eiji, a young boy barely starting his life, this is not been the case. 

Since his father’s passing, Eiji plagues himself with work and chores not because he’s a good boy trying to get his life together, but due to his genuine belief that he deserves the struggle that comes along with it. The pulsing twinge in his chest when he falls short in his classes, the rumbling in his stomach when he purposely skips his meals, and the sleepless nights that leave him feeling empty. 

It’s his own personal way of repenting for all the things he’s spewed in the heat of his emotions and can never take back. 

He won’t allow himself to bask in the simple pleasure of life seeing that he sees himself undeserving. He’ll keep his head down, never asking for more than what’s given to him even if he needs to. He’ll always take half and leave the rest for his little brother. 

He labels himself a murder. 

And murderers should not be given a second chance at life. 

Resting his weight onto his desk, arms folded over each other with his head planted between the space, Eiji stares out the opened window beside his desk. The autumn wind comes breezing in, causing the curtains to billow and a few pages in every other textbook to turn. 

The day is merciful, yet it doesn’t seem to be enough to spare Eiji from his guilt. 

While the rest of the students in his class let their thoughts drift away from the lecture, eager to choose which club to join, Eiji thinks about his chores at home and all the things that need to be done; his turn to make dinner, doing his share of laundry, bathing Yuki, and doing his homework later into the night when everyone else is asleep. 

He has no intention in indulging himself in the joys of joining a club. So when classes are dismissed, it’s only then does he peel his attention from the sky and float back to reality. He grabs his things in one swift motion, in a hurry to leave but only to have an unfamiliar frame shadowing over him. 

Eiji looks up, meeting the eyes of a cheeky boy with a mop for hair, “Hey!” Eiji squints at him, unable to recognize his own classmate. But he politely bows, causing the tall boy to sheepishly blush. “You don’t gotta bow at me, yunno. We’re the same age…” 

“Ah, sorry.” Eiji’s voice comes out in a squeak, still frazzled by his classmate’s sudden appearance. 

“Name’s Mabuchi Taki!” Still holding his smile, he sticks his hand out to shake. Eiji’s reluctant, uneasy with the warmth of his classmate. But he slips his hand in his and shakes it firmly. “Hayashi Eiji…” 

Mabuchi-san lights up like a Christmas tree, lips pulled ear to ear. “Hayashi-san! That’s a pretty name!” 

A faint ‘mm’ is all Eiji can muster. A crooked smile sweeps across his lips as he bows once more before excusing himself to go home. Unfortunately for his dopey classmate, he doesn’t seem to watch wind of Eiji’s interest to continue the conversation. 

“Where ya headed?” Mabuchi-san asks, peering over Eiji’s shoulder that’s too close for his comfort as he walks down the hall. “Clubs ‘re the other way. Aren’t ya gonna signin’ up for any?” 

Eiji shakes his head, clutching the strap of his bag tightly. “Why not? Everybody’s gotta have a clu–” 

“I have to go home.” He says curtly. 

“Why?” 

“Because I have chores to do.” 

“I’m sure yer parents’ll undertan–” 

“I don’t have any parents!” 

The hall falls silent. Mabuchi-san stiffens at his new found friend’s sudden surge of anger, heedless to the fact that it was his own doing. 

It only takes a moment for Eiji to realize what he’s done and less than a second to feel the eyes of his classmates and every other student burning holes through his uniform. 

A deep, wary sigh escapes him before he spins on the balls of his feet to meet Mabuchi-san’s widened eyes looking down at him. “Look, I’m sorry.” It doesn’t sound sincere, but it’s enough to lighten the tension around them. 

“I’m not joining a club because I don’t have any interest in doing so. It’s dumb and it’s a waste of time. So, please, leave me alone because I don’t have any intention of making any friends either.” 

Eiji let’s his words hang in the air as he turns back around to go home, leaving his classmate bewildered and puzzled. Even more intrigued than he had initially been. 

The commute home is uncomfortable not because Eiji’s being sardined into a bus during rush hour, but the weight on Eiji’s shoulders grows unbearable. Guilt pours over him like a bucket of ice as he replays the scene in his head again and again. 

I was mean again, he thinks. He smacks the back of his head, ignoring the judgement from those around him. 

He promised to be good, that he wouldn’t let his emotions spill into his words without thinking things through. But recent events, especially today’s, proved it impossible. 

First he made his brother cry, and now he yelled at a classmate. 

The image of Yuki’s glossy eyes and pouty face still bleeds through his mind. He can still hear his brother’s hushed whimpers filling the bedroom as he cried himself to sleep the night he told him he couldn’t wear a dress. He only said it to protect him, but he only ended up hurting him.

Eiji’s head hangs low as he enters the empty apartment, muttering a quiet “tadaima” as he toes his shoes off before stumbling inside. Heavy is the one with dread sinking deep into their shoulders, and it takes Eiji more than a sigh or a stretch to push through it. 

Murderers do not deserve second chances. 

He does his chores without a single whine or a moan. He’ll hum to keep his thoughts at bay, keeping it from spilling into a mess but also to keep himself from being self-conscious in such a big apartment.

A longing feeling comes creeping up at him when he’s done with most of his chores, and he catches himself glancing at the clock every now and then, counting the minutes till everyone comes home. 

He wonders if this is what his dad felt, if this was the same heavy feeling pushing down at his chest and the same sting he felt in his eyes every time he felt like crying whenever he was alone. 

He wonders if his dad would still be alive if he hadn’t added to his pain. Maybe if he had bitten his tongue and swallowed his pride, would he’d be cooking dinner for his him instead? 

If I hadn’t been born, would he still be alive? 

Eiji swallows thickly, slowly stirring the soup boiling in the pot. The metal clanging grows louder than his thoughts and he’s thankful. Just for a moment, he’ll spare himself the pain of his dread. 

“Tadaimaaa!” A small voice squeals from down the hall, the sound of a door clicking shut follows. 

Pitter patter of tiny footsteps belonging to Yuki draws closer and closer to Eiji. He whips his head and finds his brother standing by the doorway of the kitchen. Yuki’s eyes are round and his lips curve into a twinkling smile as he woddles over to Eiji. 

Eiji sets the ladle down, wiping his hands onto the material of his apron before kneeling down to be at eye level with Yuki. 

“Okaeri, Yuki-chan.” Eiji greets with a warm smile, patting his head. “How was–”

“Onii-san!” Yuki coos, cutting him off. “Look what Kenma-san brought me!” Yuki drops his backpack to the floor, shimmying out of his jacket and reveals a long shirt lined with cartoon frogs. A shirt that kinda looks like a dress. “Don’t I look pretty?” 

Eiji looks at him stunned, unable to form a sentence. He licks his lips in succession as if his words are somewhere tucked in the corners of his mouth. From where Kenma stands, he can see his jaw tightening just a little. 

Even Yuki can sense the sudden shift of his brother’s mood, causing his toothy grin to waver into a frown. 

Eiji threads his fingers through his hair, sighing in exasperation. “Yuki-chan–” 

“I look pretty, don’t I, nii-san?! Why can’t you tell me I look–”

“Why are you so damn stubborn?!” Eiji barks, causing Yuki to flinch and Kenma to step out of the corner where he stood. The same anger Eiji felt with his classmate dangerously bubbles to the surface. 

Just a little push and he’ll burst. 

“Eiji,” Kenma says, stepping between Yuki and Eiji as a barrier, “maybe you should calm down.” 

“Maybe you should _fuck off_.” Eiji spits; face flushed and teeth gritting against each other. His eyes narrowed down at his guardian as he takes a step closer, emphasizing their height difference. “Who the fuck said you could buy him shit like that? Are you his dad? Didn’t I say ‘no’, that he shouldn’t be wearing dresses?” 

“Nii-san!” Yuki whines, gripping on to the cuff of Kenma’s jeans as he hides behind him. “You’re being scary again!” 

But Yuki’s words breeze past him, not affected at all by his sniffling, too blinded by his rage and continue to fire away. 

Kenmas face flushes in anger, but he bites his tongue. There are many things he’d like to spit back at him, but in contrast to Eiji, he still has enough sense in him to be more wary of Yuki. But it changes when Eiji calls his little brother the one thing he’d never expect to come out of his mouth. 

“You’re being mean again!” Yuki screams, now sobbing into the material of Kenma’s pats as Eiji continues to shout his question, “ANSWER ME, YUKI? ARE YOU A FAG?” 

_SMACK_. 

The sound of Kenma’s hand colliding against Eiji’s cheek ripples throughout the apartment, and he finally snaps out of it. The realization of all that he’s said and done comes at him like a tsunami overtaking a small village. He’s shaking in place, cheek still turned away, still stinging. 

I did it again, he thinks. 

“Get the fuck out of my house.” Kenma seethes. 

When Eiji finally turns his head, the sight before him sends a throb in his chest. Kenma’s eyes are blazed in fury, chest heaving, the vein on his forehead just about ready to burst. All the while, the one who means to him the most hides behind Kenma with fear pouring from his eyes. And when Eiji tries to move close to him, he flinches back. 

It’s enough for Eiji to finally move his feet, retreating to the front door without bothering to grab a coat or even his shoes. He sprints down the hall and towards the elevator, vision blurred by his tears and heart thumping loudly in his chest, he didn’t even notice he had bumped into you. 

❁ ❁ ❁

The tip of Eiji’s nose begins to numb and his cheeks flush at the painstaking tingling sensation given by the brisk autumn air. His chest achingly constricts as he gasps between his sobs as he sits on a bench in the middle of an open area near the building. He feels the stares, hears the whispers of bystanders but he doesn’t care. 

Pitiful, he thinks. 

Why am I so mean? When did I ever get this mean? He doesn’t remember when it started. Maybe it happened when he found out what his dad was, or when he caught his dad with someone who wasn’t his mom, a man. 

Maybe that’s when it started. His anger towards his dad started out as a seed and before he knew it grew into something ugly and poisonous. It came in the form of half-assed chores, ignoring the curfew, throwing spiteful words and comments about his dad being incompitent. 

Eiji swallows hard before taking another deep breath as he regains his composure. Too focused on his breathing, he doesn’t feel you throwing a blanket over his shoulders. It’s only then when you take the open spot beside him does he realize he’s no longer alone. 

“I heard what happened,” You say, your lips fall into an awkward smile as you pat his back. He flinches away from your touch, wondering why you’re being so kind. “What’s going on, Eiji?” 

He stays quiet, too scared of his own voice and his ability to stop himself from vomiting the rest of his hate onto someone else who didn’t deserve it. 

“I’m not mad,” You assure him, “I’m disappointed at what you did and in what you said, but I’m not mad at you. I think I could understand where you’re coming from if you just open up to me…even if it’s just a little.” 

Eiji bites his lips, contemplating. It takes a moment for his pain in his chest to subside, and when you offer him a small smile does his doubt slowly fade. You seem genuine and the warmth you radiate is inviting. 

“I used to think I hated him,” He began, sniffling through every other word, “my dad, I mean. But when he died, I realized I didn’t and it was already too late.” 

You watch him intently, listening to the guilt dripping from his words. His breaths are shaky, and you can’t tell if it’s because he’s freezing or if he’s on the brink of crying. 

“And I killed him, you know.” You blink at him in shock, raising your brows as you try to swallow his confession. Eiji’s eyes are hollow, not a single sliver of life found in it. “The day he died, he was picking me up from school and I was so embarrassed. I was so embarrassed of who he was, and I hated it even more that my friends knew who he was too.” 

You understand what he means, nodding at his words as he continues. 

“They caught him holding hands with a man somewhere is Shinjuku, and the Monday after that, it was all they told me. They told me he was disgusting and they assumed I was just like him. I got bullied because of him, and I guess I just ended up hating him even more.” 

“You’re hate didn’t kill him, Eiji.” You rub circles on his back before moving in closer to his side, wrapping one arm over his shoulder to keep him warm. 

“Yeah, but my words did.” He keeps his eyes fixed on the cement in front of him. He rubs his feet together to create some warmth, but his efforts are matchless to the night air. “That day, we had a fight in front of school. I was yelling at him and all he wanted to do was to pick me up from school and take me home. I guess he saw how tired I was every time I came home, but I was too angry…” 

“I told him I was gonna walk home instead.” Eiji huffs, craning his head back. He looks at the little stars twinkling above him and focuses on them, trying to ignore the sudden ache in his chest. “But he wouldn’t listen, and he followed me across the street. A-And I was so angry, you know? I was so angry and I remember telling him, ‘either fuck off or just die’, and he did.” 

His last words come out strained as he tries to hold back the urge to cry. “Hah, the one time he actually listens to me…fucking…Why’d he have to go and listen to me? W-What the fuck was he thinking?”

Tears fall from his face and pool down his chin as a sob racks through his body, and you instinctively take him in your arms, bringing his head down to your shoulder; you comb your fingers through his hair to soothe him. 

You don’t mind the gazes you both earn from the people around you, and tune out their murmuring as well. Dread plagues you as Eiji cries harder, his weeping mixing with the howling wind.

“I didn’t mean it!” He yells between his sobs, clutching his chest as he loses his breath. “I didn’t mean for him to die! He needs to know I didn’t hate him. I don’t hate him, please–” 

“I’m sure he knows.” You say, whispering into his ear. You press a kiss into his hair as you feel yourself cry as well. You didn’t know that he’d been carrying this, but it all made sense–why he was always quiet or why he never made eye contact, everything. 

“I just–” He takes a deep breath as he raises his head from your shoulder. He looks at you and he looks so beaten down, eyes all puffy and red. “Why didn’t he ever fight back? All the times someone called him a name or looked down on him, he never–he never said anything! Why didn’t he fight back? It just made me so mad that he would always stand there and just take it in!” 

“And even with our family, he never stood up to them. He just bowed his head and let them walk all over him, and it made me so mad! It’s like he didn’t care! And what about us–Yuki and I? Didn’t he care how we saw him? Wasn’t he ashamed?”

You shrug your shoulders, lips gaping open unable to say a thing. You didn’t know. You didn’t know him well enough to speak for him, and you realize you failed once again. You couldn’t help, you couldn’t fix a thing. 

The last of his light is dwindling before your very eyes and you’re unable to save it. 

Maybe you aren’t meant to be a parent. _This seems too hard_ , you think, watching Eiji unravel into a puddle of remorse and self-hatred. But you remember what you and Kenma had both promised, that you agreed to do things differently and if you were going to mess up, then at least you’ll mess it up together. 

So you bring your hands up to Eiji’s face, cupping his damp cheeks. You try your best to give him a smile, but it comes out all wonky and awkward as you yourself are also shaking in your own turmoil. But you try your best to keep yourself composed. 

“I don’t know what he was thinking,” You truthfully admit, your voice hoarse and broken. “I can’t speak for him, but I know he loved you both. I know he did. And I’m sure he knows you love him, too.”

Eiiji shakes his head, pouting at you. “I-I never said it.” 

“He knows.” You say more confidently. “It’s okay, he knows.” 

“You think he’ll forgive me?” 

“I think he already did.” 

You almost miss it if it hadn’t been for the lamp flickering above you, but you see relief glimmer in his eyes just for a moment. And you feel it in the fall of his shoulders, the way the tension leaves his body. Your assurance gives him peace, even if it’s only momentarily. 

You spend the remainder of your time trying to calm him down and talk him up, telling him nothing good comes for carrying such a heavy burden by himself. And you tell him to share the weight with you, promising him that no matter what happens you’d stand by his side. 

“But you have to apologize to Yuki-chan.” He nods at your words, and you can see the guilt creeping in again. “What you said was not okay, and I never want to hear that come out of your mouth ever.” 

“I’m really sorry,” He sighs, “I just don’t want people stepping on him the way they did our dad. I don’t want him to think he’s weak just because he wears dresses or whatever else he’ll choose to wear.” 

You shake your head, smiling at him. “Your father was the strongest man I’ve ever known, so if Yuki’s anything like him, he’ll be able to take it. But even then, he has you and you both have us. And as long as we hold each other close, fight for each other, then we’ll be okay.” 

“Okay,” He says, standing up from the bench, “I wanna see him now.” 

❁ ❁ ❁

It takes more than just a while for Eiji to get Yuki to even take a look at him. Hours pass and his body begins to ache, but when Yuki finally decides to listen to his apologies, it becomes worth it. He apologizes for making him cry and all the mean things he’s said and done, and he promises never to raise his voice ever again. 

Baby steps become big ones and eventually Eiji finds himself wrapped in the arms of his little brother, muttering his forgiveness into his ear before giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

And all the while, after you talk Kenma down, telling him what you heard,forgiveness comes easily for Eiji, but he isn’t spared from his scolding as he sits at the edge of the couch. 

“Men can wear dresses and still be men.” Kenma says sternly. “Men can wear make-up, men can wear heels. Men can still be men despite the clothes they wear, and I’m not gonna have someone tell _my_ kids otherwise.” 

Eiji raises his brows, his head jerking up at Kenma by the sudden label. It even catches you off guard. 

_His kids_ , he thinks. And though he’ll never admit it, it sends a tickle in his stomach, spreads a warm feeling across his chest. 

“And while you’re at it,” Kenma begins again, “If you need something, say it. Don’t be shy. You’re still walking on your toes, and you don’t need to be. You’re allowed to want things, you’re allowed to ask. You’re allowed to do things that you like and whatever else makes you happy, so stop skipping clubs.” 

“I–” 

“I got a call from the school, you think I didn’t know?” Eiji’s lips hang open, blushing in embarrassment. He flinches when Kenma steps forward, expecting another slap on face. But instead Kenma ruffles his hair, smirking down at him. “You should try volleyball…It’ll help with all that aggression you got in ya.” 

A sob bubbles through Eiji’s dried lips. It catches Kenma off guard, but a smirk easily slips across his lips as he continues to ruffle his hair. 

“You’ll be fine.” 

❁ ❁ ❁

The commute to school is a little less awful. He stops looking down at his feet and looks out the window of the bus, realizing just how pretty the view is during the morning buste. He welcomes the wind brushing against his face and the heat of the morning sun on his walk towards the school. He notices the little flowers lined at the front of the gate, the soft chattering of students as he enters the building, and the smell of someone else’s perfume. 

For the first time, Eiji decides to look up and become more aware of the things around him–the simple joys. 

Though the guilt is still there, it no longer comes in the form of a boulder weight down his back, it’s shrunk down to little rock that–if he gains enough confidence and strength–he’ll be able to brush off his shoulder. And even when his dread begins to feel a little unbearable and he thinks himself a murder, he replays your words as well as Kenma’s in his mind. 

I’m allowed to move on. 

I’m allowed to be happy. 

Eiji steps into his classroom; head no longer bowed and eyes no longer averting gazes. He takes his seat, removing things from his bag when a familiar figure slumps into the desk in front of him. 

“Mornin’,” Mabuchi-san kindly greets as if he hadn’t been yelled at just yesterday. But Eiji isn’t going to complain. “You seem a lil better compared to yesterday.” 

Eiji smiles and it throws him off, “I do, actually.” 

Mabuchi-san mirrors his smile before scooting his chair closer to Eiji’s desks and resting his chin at the edge. He twiddles thumbs and bites his lips and Mabuchi-san notices. “Somethin’ the matter?” 

“I uhh,” Eiji clears his throat and looks at him directly in the eyes with intention. You can do this, he thinks. “I just wanna say sorry for being an ass to you yesterday. I didn’t mean what I said, and I’m really sorry I yelled at you like that.” 

Mabuchi-san’s expression softens and he waves his apology away. “Don’t be. I kinda have this really bad habit for oversteppin’, so I should be the one apologizing to ya.” 

But Eiji shakes his head and doesn’t take his apology, so the boys call it a truce and have a fresh start. 

“So, ya interested in joinin’ any clubs?” Mabuchi-san asks. 

“I, uh, I kinda wanna try for volleyball.” Mabuchi-san shoots up from his seat, lips pulled into a wide smile. He slams his hands onto the desk, causing Eiji and every other person in the room to flinch. He leans in, eyes sparkling in joy. “Wh-What the hell, dude?” 

“I’m on the volleyball team!” He resounds. “We’re totally meant to be friends! Eat with me–” Mabuchi-san’s cut off when the bell rings, but he quickly whips his head back to Eiji, “come with me after lunch and I’ll tell you some more! We can even go to clubs together after classes! I’ll introduce you to the team and you can try out!” 

Mabuchi-san quickly sprints to his seat, earning a few scowls as he bumps a few shoulders, leaving Eiji a little dumbfounded as he processes what had just occurred. He’s never met someone as lively or friendly as Mabuchi-san, a bit different. 

_I think I might like different_ , he thinks. 

Excitement sparks in him and he finds it difficult to pay attention in his class. He looks at the clock, counting the minutes till lunch, not minding the fact that it’s still early in the morning in hopes it’ll calm him down. 

Leaning into his desk with his chin settling in the dip of his hand, and a soft smile across his lips, Eiji thinks of what he’ll eat later for lunch, all the cool things he’ll learn from Mabuchi-san, and what it’ll be like to be a part of a team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thought we’re done? we’ve got a bonus chapter coming on Sunday ;)


	5. Bonus: Life Right Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’m sorry it took so long, but I wanted to write only the very best BONUS CHAPTER for you guys. But I did say I’d post on Sunday, I just didn’t say which Sunday ;) 
> 
> [Joke, I just found it really hard to write this.]
> 
> This is probably the longest chapter I’ve ever written, so I apologize for giving you quite the read. One last time, thank you for the support and for journeying with me through this fan fic! I hope you continue on with me as I write more stories. 
> 
> See you in the next series!

The afternoon air is hot and thickly layered with barbecue smoke. Music blares off into the distance, masked between the clamoring of students and visitors alike as they participate in the activities; some cheering as they root for each other, some booing down their opponents. 

All the while you camp beneath the cool shade of a tree while you wait for Kenma to come back with more water. It stands just a couple of feet away from the track and field, giving you a clear view of Yuki participating in a sack race with Hinata. 

You stretch your legs, rehydrating yourself bit by bit as you watch Hinata shuffling across the field with Yuki clinging onto his back. His movements are dangerously vigorous, but not harsh enough to have Yuki slip away.

 _Oh, god, please don’t drop my kid_ , you think. 

The little crow that had been painted on the side of Hinata’s cheek earlier in the day, as well as the mini frogs scattered across Yuki’s face, have now become nothing more than smudges coated in their own sweat. 

You can already imagine how much scrubbing you’ll have to do when you give Yuki his bath later. 

Amused, you watch as they make it to the finish line. Hinata stumbles on his own feet, causing him to fall to the ground knee first as Yuki swings around his neck, the two of them shouting in victory as if they made it to first place.

Bokuto skips to their side, not minding the stares they earn from those around them as he hands them a bottle of water after their “win”. 

You did worry about the possible attention you’d attract with two olympic athlete wandering around the campus. But much to your surprise, the only ones who were brave enough to approach Hinata and Bokuto were either high school girls or very desperate looking mothers. 

The latter tends to send an unwelcome shiver down your spine. 

You watch as Bokuto peels Yuki away from Hinata and lifts him to the sun, sprinkling him with praises and kisses, not minding the green paint smearing onto his lips. And you smile to yourself, once again thankful for the extra set of hands. 

You jolt in place when you feel something cool press against the crown of your head. Raising your hand to block the sliver of sunlight peeking through branches, you find your boyfriend towering over you with a smile on his face. 

You smile back, taking the cold bottle of water, “Hey there.” 

“Sorry I took so long,” He says, joining you on the grass. “How’s Yuki-chan? Did he win the race?” 

You shake your head, still looking ahead. “No, but he’s still happy, so it’s still a win, I suppose.” 

Kenma follows your line of sight, finding Yuki perched on Bokuto’s shoulders. He stretches his arms to the sky, his chubby cheeks jiggling beneath the sun as he giggles in joy. 

“As long as he’s happy.” 

Twisting the bottle open, you down the water in one breath, satisfying your need for hydration. You rest your head back as a heavy, tired sigh escapes you. 

Your hair sticks to your temples, sweat trickling down your neck as you stay slumped against the itchy bark of the tree, desperate to regain the last of your energy before the day ends. You use one of the many flyers that had been handed to you, fanning away the dizzying feeling that tries to consume you. 

“Are you still good?” Kenma asks, taking the flyer from your hand to fan you himself. You lazily nod, bones too achy to move. “Day’s almost over. Just give it a few more pushes and we’ll be home.” 

You hum in response, lulling your head towards him, meeting his soft expression as he continues to fan you down. He pulls his handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing away the sweat accumulating on your forehead, but still minding not to smear any of the butterflies painted on your face. 

“When does Eiji’s game start again?” You ask.

Kenma looks at his watch, reading the time. “Ten minutes or so. We should probably go. I got a text from Kuroo saying he saved us seats inside.” 

You groan, finding yourself fickle; you don't want to leave, too comfortable on the freshly cut grass, but you want to be a responsible, supportive parent as you cheer Eiji on for his first game. You weigh your options even if the answer is clear as the day. 

Kenma rises from the ground, stretching his hand down for you to take. And though you’d rather be left behind and take a nap, you reach out and take it. 

❁ ❁ ❁

You don’t remember high school being this noisy, or maybe it’s only because you had always been a part of it; joining in on the cheering, the boisterous, hearty laughing, shouting across the hall as you chased after your friends in the middle of lunch. 

The courtyard is lined with students draped in costumes or their regular uniforms, trying to attract attention to their own booths and themed cafes. And the memories come hurtling at you like a flood, drowning you in nostalgia as you and the boys walk against the current of sweaty bodies

Your school life was a very shiny and bright contrast to what life had been like at home. 

As you enter the gym, you’re welcomed by the uproar of students and families cheering for their friends, waving their banners. It takes only but a moment to spot the familiar head of hair from where you and the boys stand. You make a bee line to the stands, moving through the current with minimal skin to skin contact. 

Kuroo shoots you a smile as you climb up the steps, patting down the seat beside him. You plop yourself next to him, Kenma takes the open side by your side while Bokuto and Hinata sit themselves on the seats in front of you. 

Yuki stays glued to the boys, moving from Hinata’s lap to Bokuto’s from time to time. A sense of peace engulfs you as you watch Yuki giggling on Bokuto’s lap while he plays a safe game of tickle fight. 

You couldn’t be any happier and any more grateful for the extra set of hands. 

A thunderous drum roll breaks the crowd into silence, signaling the games to begin. You’re given a clear, full sweep of the court. Anticipation rumbles through your bones like an unrelenting earthquake as you wait for Eiji to make his appearance. 

There’s a long line of young boys, all who seem to be much taller than your nephew. Worry wracks through your mind a million miles per second, and no amount of squeezing of your thumbs can dissipate your nerves. 

“W-What’s Eiji’s position again?” You ask Kenma, eyes still glued to the entrance of the door as you wait for Eiji. 

“Wing spiker.” He replies cooly. You bob your head, whispering a string of “cool, cool, cools”, only to grow even more antsy. 

Kenma notices and places his hand on top of yours, squeezing it. You jerk your head to him, your eyes meeting a soft expression. “He’s going to be great,” He eases. 

“Yeah, but--” 

“He’ll be great.” 

Before you can even open your mouth to counter, Eiji catches your gaze. Well, along with many other girls it seems. They part like the red sea as you watch him stride down the path; every step with purpose and direction, and it surprises you to see him in such a different light. 

“Seems like our boy’s quite popular with the ladies,” Kuroo chuckles in approval, arms crossed over his chest. 

You hum at his words, nodding as you watch the confidence pour out of Eiji. It’s been almost a year, and he’s grown to be someone so unrecognizable it makes your heart skip a beat. 

He’s bloomed well, you think. 

“Go, Eiji-nii!” Yuki screeches from the top of his lungs. 

And at an instant, in the midst of all the chaos, Eiji whips his head right to the direction of Yuki’s voice. His lips widen into a grin, his eyes twinkling at his little brother as he waves to you. 

“Kick some ass, Eiji-san!” Hinata yells followed by Bokuto’s boisterous cheering as he shoots a fist into the air. 

You can’t help but feel a warmth spreading across your chest, budding a funny feeling in your stomach as you watch your friends and family cheering along for Eiji. 

It had been a year--almost a year since you brought the boys home from the funeral. Almost a year has passed since you and Kenma made the decision to take full responsibility for them. Almost a full year consisting of petty arguments and stressful misunderstandings that can be easily glossed over by the overflow of all the other--happier memories you’ve all made. 

Like the family movie marathons that began in the morning and stretched into the night, deep conversations shared between you and Eiji over cold chicken, tickle fights with Yuki, and watching Kenma take another step into his parental role so fittingly. 

And now, having spent the entire day at Eiji’s high school just to support him for his sport’s festival. All of you cleared your schedules just to see how far Eiji’s gotten since he began his journey with volleyball. And it mattered even more to the boys. 

After all, if it hadn’t been for them intervening in Eiji’s sport’s life, he wouldn’t have made it very far. Eiji had been easily swayed by his insecurities and had been blown away by the harsh criticism of his previous coach. 

They quickly became Eiji’s anchor. 

As a result of the boys’ determination to make your nephew the very best version of himself, you never came home to an empty apartment. It was always a little more crowded, a little more louder than usual. 

Hinata and Bokuto would teach Eiji his basics in the living room, and Kenma would be found going feral, yelling at them to go out in fear of Yuki being hit in the face with a ball. Sakusa would be found off in the corner, far from the physical contact while critique their techniques and everything else they were doing wrong. 

And of course, somewhere in the kitchen, more often than not, Atsumu would burn yet another one of your pans in his attempt to recreate whatever he saw his brother do. 

The constant state of chaos in your home would drive anyone mad, but you weren’t anyone. Little you dreamed of this, begged to the deities day and night that your home would carry its name. 

So you’d swallow your irritation, or water down your frustrations from work the moment you entered the apartment, not wanting to ruin the chances of life continuing on just like this. 

The whole gym stands on their toes the moment the match begins. The opposing team greets Eiji’s with the sound of a smack against the ball ripples throughout the gym and you find yourself holding your breath. In just one blink, the ball manages to barrel across the court only to be met with a quick. 

The audience gasps, stunned at the boys. They’re light on their feet and nimble with their movements. You hadn’t seen anyone move like that since high school, and the feeling of watching them play is exhilarating. 

The first half of the match breezes through with pressure rising in the air. Every block grows a bit more intense, each serve more forceful than the last, and the earth shakes beneath their feet each time they come down from a high. Half of the audience has their heart lodged in their throats while the rest continues to screech their praises. 

“Fuck!” Kenma grits, balling his fists till their white as he watches the game on the edge of his seat. You swat his arm, pulling him out of his trance with a warning look before glancing at Yuki. “Right, sorry. The opposing team seems to be doing really--well, both sides, actually. I haven’t seen a game as intense as this since--”

“Sarukawa Tech vs. Nekoma.” Kuroo says with a smirk, his back arched as he leans his elbows onto his knees. He watches intently, following every moment in the court. “Eiji-san’s team greets the opposing team with striking force, but the opposing team matches it with the same vigor.” 

“Isn’t that bad?” You ask, cocking your head to the side as you continue to watch. “Wouldn’t they just burn out from all the energy they’re spewing?” 

Kenma shakes his head. “They treaded lightly in the first half of the game,” He explains as he takes a sip of water. “Sure, their serves were strong, but their movements were calculated. They were probably saving their breaths in hopes the other team would wear out, but it seems like both teams had the same plan.” 

“So, what’ll happen?” 

Kenma shrugs his shoulders. “Can’t tell, but the tension in the court is thick as fog. It’s kinda like you’re watching--” 

“A string being pulled from both ends and waiting for it to snap.” Kenma nods his head at Kuroo’s words. “Don’t worry, Eiji seems to be holding himself well.” 

You look over to your nephew. He’s coated in sweat and his shirt sticks to his skin as he crouches down. His eyes follow the ball and ever so often he jolts in place, anticipating for it to move to him. 

He’s so much different compared to last year. His resolve seeps through his skin in the form of narrowed eyes, a clamped jaw, and knuckles wound tight enough to bleed. His focus is unmatched to anything you’ve seen before, and you can’t help but stare at him in awe. 

Even if it's merely a game at a sport’s festival, you can feel just how serious the players are. Everyone’s on the edge of their seats, their attention glued to the ball and completely unfazed by the loudness of the crowd’s cheering. Not even the fan girls can pull them from their focus. 

You watch as Eiji and his team noticeably grow tired. The rubber soles of their shoes squeak against the glossy floor as they begin to drag their feet. Their limbs dangling to their sides; they’re moving on their last breaths. 

And you find yourself scooting close to the edge of your seat, digging your nails into your skin, carving mini crescent moons as their movements grow sloppy as they inch closer to the last point. 

A boy from the opposing team cranes his neck back, stretching the muscles in his arm as he readies himself for a serve. There’s vengeance in his eyes and when you follow his line of sight, you notice he’s glaring right at Eiji who seems to be doing just the same. 

Without thinking, you grab a hold of Kenma’s shirt, twisting it between your fingers. 

“You see it, too?” He muses, he threads his fingers into yours and holds your hand. 

“He looks scary.” You gulp. 

Even though he stands on the other side of the court, you can tell he’d tower over Eiji, probably wouldn’t have a hard time stepping on him like an ant on the side of a street. 

“Wah! Look at that guy!” Hinata exclaims, bouncing Yuki on his laps as his gazes fixates on the towering teenager. “He’s kinda like Lev’s height, don’t ya think?” He momentarily twists his attention back to you, watching the three of you nod in silence, drinking in every inch of that boy’s height. 

“He might be even taller.” Kuroo chimes. 

“He looks like he’s out to get Eiji-san…” Hinata points out. 

Bokuto shakes his head. “Eiji-san can take it!” He declares. “You mess him up, Eiji-san!” He hollers, making heads turn. 

Yet again, the sound of a spike splits through the crowd's chants and cheers, but what sends you gasping in fear is literal backfire it sends against Eiji when he receives the ball. He falls on his butt, a pained expression flashes across his face. 

You jolt up in your seat, wanting to run down the stands and help him. But Kenma holds your wrist, tracing shapes over your skin to calm you down. 

“He’s fine.” He says, looking up at you with a small smile. 

You look at Kenma warily before turning back to Eiji. He’s already on his feet, biting back the pain and charges towards an opening as his teammate prepares to set for him. The clock winds down from minutes to seconds. 

You hold your breath, recoiling back to your seat and watch. You watch as the ground beneath Eiji’s feet thrusts him into the air, and your lips gape open. You watch him in awe as he suspends in the air and everything around him adjusts; the whole world stops, the sun filters in through one of the ceiling windows, and the cheering of the crowd muffles. 

You watch his face contort in aggression, you hear him yell as his hand meets the ball, spiking it down to the floor. 

The string finally snaps. 

The uproar of the crows sends a chill down your spine. All at once you and the boys scream for your nephew. Your eyes begin to sting, tears brimming from the waterline. 

“THAT’S MY KID!” You screech, pointing over to Eiji who’s being tackled to the ground by his teammates. You smack the man just across from you as your smile widens from ear to ear. “Y-You see that boy right there? That’s my kid! My kid!”

The man can only offer you a shaky smile, amused yet frightened by your aggression, muttering a ‘congratulations’. 

“FUCK YEAH.” Bokuto beams as he shoots up from his seat, throwing punches of victory in the air at Eiji’s win. 

You don’t even mind the fact Yuki’ll probably latch onto cuss word, too enthralled and way too proud of your nephew’s win to care about anything else. 

❁ ❁ ❁

The sun is just about to kiss the horizon when you and the boys step out of the gym. The smell of sweat and feet no longer in the air and violating your nose. The cool breeze brushes against your cheeks while you and the gang wait for Eiji to come out. 

You didn’t want to pull him away from the many praises and compliments he’s been showered on, especially when you caught wind of the group of girls who were patiently waiting for their moment to approach him. 

When Eiji does emerge from the overflow of people pouring out from the gym, Bokuto dives towards him, head first and into Eiji’s stomach as he wraps his arms around his waist. Eiji vigorously coughs from the blow and even more when Bokuto throws him over his shoulder and swings him around. 

“Be careful!” You warn, reaching out to Eiji in worry. “Do not drop my kid! Bokuto, I swear.” 

“He’s fine!” Bokuto grinds, still spinning around. “Look at you!” He says, propping Eiji back to the floor as the boys gather around him.

He loses his balance momentarily before beaming a smile. “How’d I do?” 

“You were amazing!” Hinata gushes, eyes twinkling in admiration as he ruffles Eiji’s hair. “How’d it feel, jumping in the air like that?” 

Eiji blows a raspberry, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders, completely at a loss of words. “Being in the air like that…” His mouth open and closes shakes his head, “it kind felt like--” 

“Flying?” Hinata looks at him with a gleam in his eyes, and Eiji nods. The energy shared between them looks and feels so personal, something that causes Eiji’s heart to jump out of his chest. 

“Yeah, exactly that.” 

You watch as the boys gradually become rowdy as they get into their favorite parts of the game. Yuki coils around Eiji’s leg as he tells him how cool he was and just how much he wants to be like him. 

“He’s pretty amazing, isn’t he?” Kenma steps beside you, handing you his water bottle to drink. You happily oblige, only now realizing how dry your throat has gotten from all the screaming you had done. 

“Yeah, he is.” You chug down the rest of his water before handing it back to him.

“Not gonna lie, watching him made me wanna get back into volleyball.” You turn your head to him and cock a brow. “What?” 

“You? You and running?” 

“I’ve done it before! You’ve seen me!”

“Yeah,” You snicker, “and you haven’t been like that since grad. The most running you’ve done was when you were late picking Yuki up from school.” 

Kenma rolls his eyes and digs his hands into pockets of his cargo shorts. A smirk slips across his lips while he kicks the pebbles to the side before looking up to see Kuroo patting Eiji on the shoulder while Bokuto and Hinata dance around him in joy. 

Kenma’s hair blows back when the wind picks up, giving you a clear view of his face.His painted whiskers chipped and faded from all the sweating he’s done for the day. The light seeps into his skin, giving him a warm glow. 

“You and I,” His sigh comes out sharp from the bubbling feeling in his chest. Though his attention is on you, his eyes wander anywhere else on the floor as he continues to face forward, “we’re doing a pretty okay job, don’t you think?” 

“I think we’re doing more than okay.” You correct.

You think you imagine it, that it might’ve been the wind. But you swear you heard him mumble, “almost like real parents…” 

But all he does is hum in response, lips pursed into a thin line, and you turn to look at him, studying him with curiosity in your eyes. But he doesn’t waver, still looking ahead. 

“Is something the matter?” Your pout falls into a small frown and eyebrows furrowed as you watch him shift in place. “Kozume?” 

He stares down at his toes, digging a hole into the earth while he takes a deep breath. His cheeks flush as red as strawberries and you catch him tugging his lower lip beneath his teeth. Kenma’s nervousness piques your interest, but you can’t push him too hard. 

If the wind doesn’t blow him away, he’ll probably make a run for it. 

With his eyes still fixed to the ground, he slips his hand in yours, lacing his fingers between the spaces of yours before grasping your hand tightly. 

You feel his thumb tracing shapes over your skin as if drawing enough circles or squares would give him enough courage to say whatever it is he needed to say. 

But he still doesn’t make an attempt to face you or meet your eyes. 

“ _Kozume?_ ” Your voice comes out a little stern, an effect of your growing impatience. 

“I really love you!” The squeak in Kenma’s declaration has his eyes widen in shock just as much yours. He sucks in a breath in frustration, rolling his shoulders back and stretching his neck to at least suppress his anxiety. 

“I love you, too?” 

But Kenma squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. He shakes away your words as if you don’t understand what he means--like you’ve yet to understand it. 

You notice the way his breathing gradually becomes ragged, so you give his hand a little squeeze, signing to him to take his time. And you wait patiently, studying him carefully. 

Kenma takes a long, deep breath before finally peeling his eyes away from the ants moving around his shoes, finally twisting his body to face you. His expression once full of worry and dread now relaxes beneath your soft, welcoming gaze. 

“No, I mean,” He begins, words slippery as he tries to formulate a thought. “I really love you. A-And I’m not good with words, so please try and be patient with me.” 

You give him a small, encouraging smile as you nod your head, giving him enough assurance to continue. 

“I love you in more ways than one. I-I think in more ways than I could ever count.” You squeeze his hands a little tighter when you feel him beginning to tremble. “I love you not in a way that would have me wanting to die if you weren’t by my side, but--but you know, like, in the way that makes me wanna do my very best until I have the right to have you by my side, you know? Oh, shit, does that make sense?” 

You laugh, cheesing at him and his words. “Yes, it does. Kenma, you do deserve--” 

“‘M not finished.” He quips, cutting you off. 

“Ah, right. Sorry.” 

Kenma licks his lips before he begins again, and you can’t help but bite down a laugh bubbling inside you, threatening to ruin the moment. But it wouldn’t be so hard if he wasn’t trying to be serious while he has whiskers chipping off his cheeks. 

“Anyway,” He begins, “I realize if you love someone very much, and you know just how much you love them, then I think you should--you know, you--you should make them yours...”

You squint at him, not picking up what he’s putting down. But it’s only because you’re only half listening, only getting a few of the important parts. Most of your energy is on trying not to laugh. 

“But we’re already dating…?” 

He shakes his head once more and he’s looking at you with desperation bleeding through his eyes, waiting, hoping that you’d understand. And though it takes you more than a moment, the gears in your head turning at a much steadier pace than usual, you eventually get it. 

_Oh._

_Oh._

“OH.” You bink at him frantically as the light bulb in your head burns bright. You swallow hard, a smile twitching across your lips as your cheeks burn under Kenma’s worrisome gaze. “I--Oh, wow. You--Are you sure?” 

“Out of all the game plays I’ve ran through and all the movements I’ve ever calculated in all my hours of gaming, I’m sure of this.” He places his hands on both sides of your face. He’s looking directly into your eyes with every intention to persuade you, the man who had been fumbling over his words and twiddling his thumbs ceases to exist. 

“I think I’ve always been sure,” He confesses, his hands dropping from your cheeks and onto your shoulders. “I’ve just been scared, you know?” 

“And what made you sure?” 

“When I was getting you water, I saw this booth selling this really pretty ring--” Kenma lifts a hand off your shoulder and buries it deep into his pocket, fishing around until he pulls out a ring. It's simple in design, but still just as beautiful. “--and I thought, “Wow, she might like this”, and it kinda just clicked…” 

“It clicked like puzzle pieces coming together or a Rubik's cube with all the colors all on the right sides. If I’m so sure of this love of mine, then why haven’t I married you yet? So, would you please marry me? Because I heard about that love that comes once in a lifetime, and I’m sure you’re that love of mine…” 

You smack your lips, breathless from his words. Never in your time with Kenma had he ever said anything so expressive--at least not enough for you to really understand what’s going on in his heart or mind.

And the more you stay silent, the more his confidence chips away so you nod your head vigorously until you can fathom the words that’ll forever seal you to him. “Yes, please. I want this. I want this so much, yes. I’ll marry you.” 

Kenma slips the ring onto your finger with little to no ease, shaking from the fact you said yes. That someone as wonderful--someone who has more reasons to leave him and find someone better chose to stay. 

He winds his arms around your waist, flushing you against his chest before leaning into your lips. Much to your surprise, he kisses you feverishly. All the love he has for you pours into your lips and you smile against his lips, enveloping him into a tighter embrace. 

You can feel the stares, you hear a few of the distasteful muttering from the parents, but you can’t be bothered. Not when you’re at your absolute happiest. 

“My boy, Kyanma!” Kuroo’s voice booms through the murmurs, followed by Bokuto’s obnoxious whooping all the while Hinata and Eiji shield Yuki’s untainted eyes from the PDA. 

With a hand pressed to your back to support your weight and lips still on yours, Kenma extends his other hand and flips Kuroo off. 

“Wrap it up, will you?” Kuroo teases. “I told Atsumu Eiji’s team won, so he’s waiting for us at the restaurant for a little victory party.” 

Much to both of your dismay, you pull away, knocking foreheads as broken laughs lip past your lips. You take a deep breath and look into his eyes, taking a little more time to let it all sink in and reel yourself back down from your high. 

You both regroup, walking towards the boys as they snicker and tease over Kenma’s bold gesture of love. But you both choose to save the news for later, not wanting to steal the spotlight from Eiji. 

So you let yourself enjoy the bickering between Kenma and Kuroo, you happily indulge Bokuto’s unnecessary questions on why Kenma had kissed you in such a way while Hinata carries Yuki on his shoulders as he trades more volleyball secrets with Eiji. 

_Family_ , you muse to yourself. The word seems so much more meaningful now.


End file.
